Farm Life

A questionable horizon

goat with chickens
This is my buddy Stencil, the ringleader of the mischievous Goon Squad. He might be my favorite animal on the farm. He’s my constant companion throughout the day. These broiler chickens are also wonderful to have around. Seeing them run when they hear food hit their dish might be the best thing ever.

This is going to be a short and sweet post because I need to jump into bed, watch Sherlock and give my body a much-needed rest. I’m not going to lie, I’m struggling. My job should be getting easier but it’s only becoming more painful. My body is just not tolerating the work and yet the rest of me absolutely loves it. Ahh…the irony of it all. Usually I have the exact opposite problem. A big part of my job is being able to lift heavy bails of hay, jumping in and out of truck beds, shoveling wet bedding and wrestling large animals for health checks. To make matters worse, they just received a load of hay bails that are so heavy that it took two of us to load them onto the truck this morning. They’re each about 75 pounds and they make me want to wet my pants every time I lift one. And don’t think for a second that I’m alone in this sentiment. My big, strong, male co-workers all agree: they’re pants-wetting heavy, no doubt about it.

It looks like I may face a tough decision ahead. I love this job, it’s everything I’ve wanted, but I’m in such physical pain that it keeps me up at night. Even my trusty Aleve isn’t cutting it. Morning yoga and hot packs at night are helping so that’s a start. And my friend Carrie gave me this homemade coconut and peppermint oil concoction that I’ve been using as a muscle rub. It feels amazing and has helped to aleviate the some of the soreness. Whatever she puts in that stuff is pure magic.

I guess overall, I’m just having a hard time accepting the fact that I might not be living in a “normal” 37-year-old’s body. Perhaps years of grueling field work and improperly healed injuries are catching up with me. My co-workers and supervisors are so understanding (which makes it all that more crappy if I decide to leave). They keep telling me that this kind of work is not for everyone and only I can say for sure if it’s too much.  However, I’m not willing to throw in the towel just yet. I’ve still got some fight left in me and maybe I’m just experiencing some prolonged growing pains. At least that’s what I’ll tell myself… until the muscle rub wears off and my body snaps in half.